And Thus, They Met
by Tsuki-no-Kurokage
Summary: Slightly AU Out of curiosity, he went into the room of which he was forbidden access and met a white haired stranger. And to his unexpectation, he is the only one capable of getting the child out of his comatose state. HitsuIchi, implied HyouGetsu


And Thus, They Met

Author's Note: You know, I don't really have much to say about this one. It just popped up in my head all of a sudden, and for no reason. That's why I have no idea as to what genre this should go under either XD There are some poor attempts at humor and angst too. So…yeah, you get the idea.

The title is inspired by one of the episode titles for Ouran. It sounds nice when you string 'em together, so that's why. Damn, I'll be charged for plagiarism of title names if this keeps up…if there was such a thing in FF xp

Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Bleach. If I did, Hinamori would bleed to death and no one would even notice that she died.

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The cool evening breeze chilled him as the orange glow from the sun began to fade away behind the hills. Likewise, the eerily familiar orange glow, similar to that of the orange in the sky, started to fade into nothingness and two pint-sized human-like spiritual beings retreated back into his comrade's snowflake-shaped hairpins. He sat up slowly, touching his chest. Good, he had completely recovered. There was not even a single drop of blood left on his body. Compared to how he looked before, he looked like as if he had just dipped himself into a gigantic tub of ketchup mixed with water. Damn Aizen for hurting so many shinigami, especially Rukia. The carrot-top blinked. Where was Rukia? She and Byakuya were just there a minute ago…

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo tilted his head to his left, facing his big-busted classmate with long flowing orange hair, with a darker hint of orange compared to his own. He stared at her for a while before looking back up at his fellow spectacled rival and his strong, silent type of a friend. There was a very long moment of silence between the four of them, which was an indication of something that wasn't right or just that there was nothing worth talking about. He touched his chest once more, as if inspecting his injuries which had been completely healed by Orihime, and stood up, mumbling a thank you to the orange-haired healer. Without as much as of another sentence, the unusually quiet orange head walked on, and his friends just followed.

There was not a single soul in sight, save for himself and his comrades. The chaos in Soul Society had calmed down, just a little bit, but it still calmed down nonetheless. At least there wasn't anyone else going after their asses anymore. Ichigo looked to his left, and then to his right, before looking at his left again. No, he wasn't abiding by traffic rules in the town that he lived in; hell, there was no such thing as cars or even vehicles in this ghostly place. All he wanted was to look for Rukia and Renji. Oh, and Byakuya too. Sure, he had gotten glimpses of them when he was receiving the Orihime Treatment Special Package free-of-charge, but he constantly went in and out of consciousness every now and then, which sometimes scared the healer of his team. Maybe that was why she looked so worried when he woke up. Whatever it was, he was now certain that Byakuya had been carried to the hospital in Soul Society – what did they call it now…the 4th Division or something? – and Rukia maybe just followed him. Hey, maybe Renji went there too.

"Inoue."

Said orange-haired girl stopped dead in her tracks before she could bump into Ichigo by the back. "E-eh?"

"You have any idea where this 4th Division place is? I need to go there for a while."

**＜ブリーチ＞**

The 4th Division healers walking by were quite surprised to see an orange blur skiing past them. Well, to Ichigo, he was not used to walking on such smooth and clean wooden planks, let alone using shunpo while in the 4th Division main building. No wonder there was a sign saying 'Shunpo Prohibited' hanging outside the door. Ichigo wanted to yell, like what he would usually do when he, say, slipped on a banana peel and went on a dancing date with the floor, but the strict healers shushed him and he clamped his hands over his mouth, shutting himself up. Hell, he couldn't stop! If he were on the busy streets of Karakura right now, he'd most probably get fined for speeding if the traffic police had high enough of a reiatsu to see him. And it was bad enough barging in on the 1st Division on his way here (damn the buildings of Soul Society for making it seem like a maze; he couldn't blame Kenpachi for getting lost). The old geezer had to personally tell him straight in the eye where in the name of Soul Society the 4th Division was.

Finally, he put his heels down to the ground and there was a really nasty screech as he skied to a halt. Some more 4th Division members glared at him and he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. There were so many eyes on him he could've sworn there were invisible arrows leading the eyes straight to him. It felt very uneasy, having had so many people stare at him. In the human world, at least other people stared at him for his atypically glaring orange hair, but here in Soul Society, they were glaring at him not because of his orange hair but because he was being noisy. Pshe. Like he didn't know that; his father worked in a clinic and he had been to hospitals before. And he wasn't even disturbing the patients on deliberate motives, dammit.

The orange head looked around. Crap, not another labyrinth! Really…Soul Society was like a web spun by a spider; the outer circle connected to the other circles had already messed the prey up enough as it was, but the inner circles connected to the other outer circles made things just as bad. If the spider had spun a web of ten circles, he'd have to tackle ten mazes. In this case, a certain spider had spun a web and was eccentric enough to give it a name called Soul Society. This certain spider's web had who-knows-how-many circles, and the outermost circles were already confusing enough – coughRukongaicough – and followed by those circles would be some _**more **_circles that were either just as confusing or even more confusing than it was represented by the outermost circles (and Ichigo could've sworn someone in the audience was shouting 'bloody Seireitei'). And now, Ichigo had overcome the outermost circles, the circles in between, but he still had the innermost circles to go. Oh how jolly good fun it would be. Not.

He had been wandering around in circles (A/N: No pun intended) but he still couldn't find the destination he was heading to, wherever in the name of hell that was. He knew, or more like he heard, that the division buildings were really huge, but this was ridiculous!

"May I help you with anything?"

Ichigo spun around, hearing a delicate voice speak from behind. A lady with the captain-exclusive haori and long silky raven hair, tied in a braid at the front, was smiling at him. Behind her was another woman with grey hair, but she wasn't smiling like what her captain was doing. In her hand was a zanpakutou and in the other was a medical first-aid kit-like box. "Ah," he replied, not offering to flash the helpful captain back a smile. "I need to know where Byakuya and Renji are. Would you help me out here? I'm a little lost. The maze in here can get damn confusing sometimes…"

Taking the unintentional insult to the geography of the 4th Division, Unohana's kind smile widened. "Certainly. Just go by that corner and turn right. You should see about four rooms there," she indicated by letting Isane point fingers in the directions she just mentioned. "Kuchiki-taichou is currently recuperating from his injuries in the third room, and Abarai-fukutaichou is in the fourth room. Kuchiki Rukia-san is staying by Kuchiki-taichou's side, so if you're looking for her, you should know where to look." Seeing Ichigo nod in understanding, she blinked as she suddenly remembered something very important. Her smile dissipating into nothingness, her voice called out for the strawberry head to stop running, "Ah, please wait for a moment. There is something I have to tell you, Kurosaki Ichigo-kun. Please, no matter what you do, do not enter the first and second rooms."

Ichigo blinked. "Eh? Why?"

"Hitsugaya-taichou and Hinamori-fukutaichou are in there, respectively," Unohana explained, adding the word respectively slightly hastily as she saw that it was necessary in case the ryoka should get confused again. "The wounds that they have suffered are far greater than Kuchiki-taichou's and Abarai-fukutaichou's. They have yet to regain consciousness, so please do not enter the two rooms that I have just mentioned. I thank you for being considerate, Ichigo-kun." And with that, the motherly taichou turned and left, with Isane trailing behind her.

Ichigo stared at her, watching her leave. He placed a hand at the back of his head. Somehow, he couldn't stop thinking about Unohana's doctor advice that had been just mentioned to him. It was like as if human nature had totally taken command of his mind; if someone tells you not to do this, you will find yourself, naturally, doing it. And that was what exactly Ichigo desired to do. He wanted to check it out for himself; find out why the two strangers were claimed to have suffered greater injuries than Byakuya and Renji (those two had it bad enough as it was), and to see for himself exactly why they have yet to regain consciousness when their injuries had already been completely healed by the greatest doctor in the whole of Soul Society. It just didn't make sense. No sense at all. The words of Unohana's plea of some sort went from one ear and exited his brain from another. He took it as a gust of wind whispering sweet nothings in his ear and ignored the words as he tugged at the edge of the door, sliding it open.

For some odd reason, it felt like he was stuck in the coldest refrigerator in the whole of Japan, and even enjoying the coldness sinking into his bones to the point whereby he got used to the cold very quickly and asking for the temperature to drop even more. Closing the door behind him quietly, though he had no idea whatever for since the casualty lying there on the bed was in a coma, he cautiously took a step forward before stopping and walking again. The room itself was glowing a bright shade of blue, a color of symbolism representing the calmness of the oceans below and the serenity of the skies above. Ichigo stepped into an area where no shadows occupied its spot and felt his eyes widen slightly at the sight before him.

The comatose patient had hair of unmatchable purity. It was white like the snow of winter, it was dainty like the blossoms of edelweiss, and it soft and fluffy as a marshmallow, Ichigo reckoned when he found him subconsciously running his hand through the unconscious casualty's unique hair. Ichigo wondered if the owner of this one-of-a-kind hair had problems dealing with people who seemed to dislike him based on appearances, like _**he **_did in his own world. It'd be easy to empathize with a person like that. Eyelids were stubbornly stuck to the ridges of the bottom of his covered eyes, frozen in their position. There was no telling exactly how beautiful those eyes must be, considering the fact that the patient should have big and beautiful eyes, seeing that he was young. And a child, no less. Sometimes, Ichigo remembered with a wince, his father would tell him that his eyes were huge and everyone envied him for having the baby-like eyes. It made him so much cuter than he was in his fifteen-year-old form.

Then it struck him. The kid was injured, wasn't he? Who could've been such a bastard as to hurt someone so young?

…Oh, right. Aizen.

He had no idea why, but Ichigo pulled a random stool nearer to him and sat, shifting about until he found a comfortable position. His chestnut brown orbs couldn't bear to let go of the sight of the majestic white-haired version of Sleeping Beauty and look at other things besides the unconscious captain of whom he had no idea was the prodigal captain of the 10th Division. This was the first time he had met him…no? So why was he staring at a stranger and awed by the immense beauty the white-haired stranger unwittingly shone? The boy looked so – dare he say it – dead when he was asleep like that. Oh, spare him the irony already; this kid was one of the lords of death. Of course he was dead. But yet, Ichigo couldn't get his feelings and thoughts straightened out: why did he feel like he had…some sort of a bond that he shared with the casualty? He had never met him before, not once in his life, but he felt that he was awfully and eerily close to the boy.

…Unless they were lovers in their past lives?

_**Creeeeeeeepy…**_

Ichigo bent forward, noticing that something wasn't quite right about the child. His brows were knitted together and twitching, at that, and not to mention there were ragged gasps escaping the delicate lips as the young genius subconsciously bit his lower lip, stopping the gasps from evasion. Ichigo titled his head to one side. Wasn't he supposed to be like, comatose or something? What the hell was he doing in his supposedly unconscious state?

"He's hurting, Ichigo." At the abrupt mentioning of his name coming from the darkness, the orange-top blinked and sat up straight before turning. He knew that voice. And as expected from the familiarity of the deep, wise voice, Ichigo came face-to-face with his materialized zanpakutou's spirit. The raven-haired man, clad in the trademark midnight black coat and a pair of dark shades, looked straight at Ichigo in the eye and spoke, his voice echoing in the air-conditioned room, "He's hurting."

"Eh?" Ichigo mumbled without thinking, narrowing one of his eyes. "_Ossan (old man) _Zangetsu? What are you doing out here?" (A/N: Is it in the correct order? I'm open for any correction)

Zangetsu noticeably narrowed his eyes as well while he hovered above the even hospital-like grounds, moving closer towards the bed on which the prodigal genius Hitsugaya Toushirou laid, seemingly unconscious and conscious at the same time. Half-conscious? Perhaps. But Zangetsu knew all too well that the prodigy was _**not **_awake. At all. "Ichigo, have you any idea who this child is?" (A/N: Too many notes, but I just need to clarify that I suck at writing about Zangetsu since I haven't seen him for ages so he might be ooc)

"Eh…No."

Zangetsu turned to look at Ichigo directly and the orange head saw the hairy jaw move up and down. "The wielder of the most powerful ice-snow type zanpakutou." At the mentioning of such a high title conferred to the young child, Ichigo cringed a little. "Therefore, Ichigo, you are the only one capable of comforting the soul of the wielder of Hyourinmaru."

Blink. "Say that again, _ossan_."

"You are the only one capable of comforting the soul of the wielder of Hyourinmaru," Zangetsu repeated calmly, though the way he said it made Ichigo think that the matters concerning Hitsugaya Toushirou were damn serious. And all the pressure just had to be forced on him. Again, he might add half-bitterly. "I have told you, have I not, Ichigo, that he is hurting? You are to make him feel better; that is your task at hand right now."

"…What do you expect _**me **_to do? In case you haven't noticed, _ossan_, I just met the guy!" Ichigo exclaimed but in a soft voice, careful about any of the 4th Division members barging in and telling him to get his ass out of the ward if he were to shout so near an unconscious patient.

"Figure it out on your own, Ichigo. Figure it out on your own…"

As Zangetsu proceeded to trail off before fading away back into Ichigo's mind where he belonged, the orange head stopped him in time, "Oi, hold on a sec! How do you know so much about this kid? Why are you-?"

Without letting his adolescent wielder continue with his questions, the calm and wise tone of Zangetsu's spirit whispered, "A little conversation with the wise dragon of ice didn't seem to hurt. And a little conversation with the young wielder of the dragon wouldn't hurt either, Ichigo." Without so much as to making things any clearer, Zangetsu vanished into thin air, as if he had never been there at all.

Ichigo found himself slumping to his stool, dumbstruck by the turn of events. Seriously…Zangetsu was _**weird**_. He didn't know about the others but it sounded to him that this Hyourinmaru that his own zanpakutou's spirit had talked to was just as weird. Ichigo pitied the kid. But what was he supposed to do? True, he wanted to help his newfound friend, whose name he hadn't even known yet which made things all the more awkward, get rid of whatever painful bullshit he was suffering from but he didn't even know how to begin with. First, he was just curious to discover exactly who this Hitsugaya-taichou was or the Hinamori-fukutaichou Unohana spoke of, and he easily deduced the boy as the Hitsugaya-taichou but he had no idea that the kid's survival was going to depend on him, an outsider to Hitsugaya. This was just plain weird.

"_The rest will be up to them."_

Wasn't that what the head doctor said before? He heard it loud and clear when he was receiving treatment, at least, before he blacked out. So how the hell did the tables turn and turned the sentence into, "The rest will be up to Kurosaki Ichigo"? Ok, sure, maybe that would seem so for Hitsugaya's case but what about that Hinamori person? Should he even give a damn about whoever that person was? (A/N: No.)

Then suddenly, he felt his stomach churning.

There was an unexpected desire to let out something, like spitting out all of his boiled up feelings within him, but he wasn't exactly feeling anything right now. Something must've had somehow triggered a fit of anxiety in the carrot-top. The thing is, he didn't know what or who. He just…felt it. A certain desire to do something that he didn't know what exactly it was that had to be done. At that time, there was another ragged wheeze from the orifice of Hitsugaya Toushirou. Reasonless, Ichigo stared at those puffy pale cheeks, slightly green from the infection Hitsugaya suffered from his wound. His eyes slowly trailed down to the lean and violently trembling hand, subconsciously curling its fingers around the blanket and gripping it in a death grasp. In his uncalled for nervousness, Ichigo sprang up from his seat and grasped the hand into his own, gently stroking the agonized taichou's springy hair and murmuring 'shh' in his ear, hoping that the child would calm down.

And it all came to him naturally.

Was this what Zangetsu meant by 'figure it out on your own'? Did he seriously have this parental trait in him all this while that he didn't even know of? If so, why did it only show up now? Or…perchance…his desire to protect those he held dear to him…

Did that count as the parental trait?

Whatever it was, Ichigo didn't give it a damn. He knelt there by the side of the bed, gently and continuously stroking the uniquely spongy hair. Only when he felt the shaking settle down did he stop with what he was doing, regaining his usual casual composure. He smiled a little at the once more peaceful sight of the sleeping captain and couldn't control his further actions. Ichigo felt his body moving closer and closer, but no matter what he did in his power to stop himself from moving so close, his body wouldn't oblige. Horrible realization dawned upon him. Zangetsu's words seemed to have taken a toll on him; no, Ichigo fantasized to make himself feel better, Zangetsu was an old wizard in disguise. His words were magical spells that would always work, no matter what. And the words of the most recent encounter had Ichigo completely trapped in the spell. 'A little conversation with the young wielder of the dragon wouldn't hurt' was just the key sentence to the activation of the powerful spell. He had been fully hypnotized – and he had no clue that it actually took place.

Ichigo closed his eyes as his lips fell upon the Sleeping Beauty's.

Without worrying about the other having to resist the intimate contact, Ichigo felt his tongue licking the other's, intertwining with it and having a taste of the child's flavor. Icy cold breath from the mouth entered Ichigo's, and Ichigo's hot breath was exchanged for it. As the kiss carried on and on, the strawberry unknowingly grabbed Hitsugaya's free hand and stroked it carefully. The sub-zero chill sunk deep into his bones, piercing his skin with frostbite in the process. But Ichigo didn't mind. He could've had gone on forever; the white-haired prodigy tasted so _**good**_. If not for the unexpected cough he felt in his mouth coming from the casualty, of course. Ichigo snapped his eyes wide open, pulling himself away from the captain. He stepped back a little and watched, slightly helplessly, and still perplexed as to why he suddenly jumped on the young taichou like that.

To his utmost dreadfulness, Hitsugaya Toushirou sat up straight, his small frame trembling like shit. With a loud audible intake of breath to let out the agonized pain searing through his veins, threatening to burst precious blood vessels, Hitsugaya's left hand found its way to his wound on his aching right shoulder of which the stitch had burst open, crimson fluid staining the bandage underneath the white kimono before Ichigo saw the redness showing itself on the once pure and untouched kimono of white wholesomeness. The icy captain's eyes shot open and Ichigo finally let the true color of the dazzling emerald eyes of the one he kissed sink into his brain. They were more beautiful than he thought. But another painful rasp coming from the young prodigy snapped him out of his trance-like state, and said captain himself felt something travel up his throat rapidly. Unable to cave it back in, Hitsugaya opened his mouth, vomiting blood out. The squelch of dripping crimson liquid made Ichigo flinch as he witnessed the blood trickling down the edges of Hitsugaya's lips, joining the growing puddle of blood he just spat out. Hitsugaya panted, his body swaying back and forth. His purplish jaws trembled as he wheezed through gritted teeth, his left hand frozen on the spot whereby his wound had burst open.

The snow white, who had woken from his slumber due to a kiss he had received from his prince charming, eased his ragged breathing and turned to his right. His usually cold and hard stare instantly softened at the sight of the orange-haired shinigami whom he had reckoned just woke him up from his unconscious state. Ichigo stared back in a daze, but his eyes never left the chest that was moving up and down slowly in a continuous motion. He noticed the droplets of sweat trickling down the temples of Hitsugaya's forehead and the shoulders moving upwards, then back to its original resting position, and back again. Ichigo stepped closer and, grabbing the chance in which the 4th Division members had not arrived and the child, not showing signs of resistance or anger, he settled back down on the stool and grinned at a baffled captain.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

"…Hitsugaya…Toushirou."

And thus, they met.

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A/N: One, I was serious when I said this popped up for no reason. Two, I still don't know if this should be under humor or angst. Three, although I'm a real sucker for dialogue, this oneshot was lacking it. Four, I apologize for any OOCness. Five, school is starting in less than one month and that would mean less time to devote myself to fanfiction.

SIGH

**Reflect the truth of which you see**

**Tsuki-no-Kurokage**


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